The Dharma Bum

by Jaysen Buterin

"We're all lying in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars" -- Oscar Wilde

Okay dear readers, it's time for a change of pace. Instead of my usual misoneistic diatribes and obsequious soapboxes, I ask you instead to bear witness to my confession, my confession of an addiction. Cognisant of all ramifications and comminations of presenting such an intimate inner demon in such a public venue, I realize I need this expurgation, this catharsis. For I can no longer bear this addiction like an albatross around my neck.

You see, I thought I'd try it once in high school. Always an enigmatic, yet wonderfully geeky lad in those tumultuous years, as much as I reveled in my solipsism, some part of me still subconsciously yearned for acceptance. So acquiescing into that pit of peer pressure, I succumbed to the dark side and did it. After all, I knew lots of other people who were doing it and they were fine. And in that lovely Miltonic fashion of human bravado after tasting the forbidden fruit, I did it again and again.

I did it all throughout high school and even into college. I rearranged entire schedules around it and even found new friends to do it with me, who shared this dark secret. Yet one day I had finally had enough, it was time to stop, and with that ameliorative declaration, I watched the two hour series finale of Beverly Hills, 90210 and I was plagued no more by this addiction for aesthetically pleasing melodrama of mindless banter that possessed all the intellectual stimulation and acting depth of adult movie fodder. I lit my white candle; I took my soap opera sobriety chip and took things one day at a time.

I met a pretty lady, we laughed, we talked, we kissed, and we ate pizza. I decided to move to the state that saw Wilbur and Orville make Leonardo roll over in his grave. I started a new life - new job, new school, new band - but the darkness crept back in as it nefariously always does. Now I've got new friends and comrades involved in it - my bass player, my editor, my girlfriend, her mum and countless others who are yet too reticent, too lacking in the courage of their convictions to admit the truth, to just come out and acknowledge this addiction, but I have to be honest with you, my readers. For if I don't go through great lengths to keep the three of you glued with rock-em sock-em ooey-blooey to this column through candor, honesty and truth, then I've failed as a dharma bum. So here goes - the aforementioned kith and myself included are HUGE Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans.

Yes slayer-boys and girls, Tuesday night at 8 (EST) now bears the cogent sobriquet of being "Buffy night." Every week our usual cast of malcontents is gathered on my commodious orange couch that I bought from Teen Challenge, our eyes glues to the TV screen, giving us our dose of preternatural chicanery and Melrosian machinations, from the lovely town of Sunnydale. The beauty of this show is that it's really the best of so many different worlds. It's kind of like 90210 with demons and vampires, and things that go bump and get staked in the night.

I know, I know, why did I lure you into a false sense of empathetic security with this fraudulent tonality of addictive privation only to capriciously engender my own accolades and adulations for my newest TV fix? Perhaps its because I just watched a five-hour Buffy marathon, or perhaps it's because it's three in the morning and talking about watchers, slayers, and of course dear Spike, just seemed like a really good idea. Regardless, if you're saying to yourself, "Self, what the hell is this silly sod talking about?" you probably have good reason, as I'm not quite sure myself.

Buffy and its brooding spin-off, Angel, are just shows you can really sink your teeth into. (Sorry, I couldn't help that one.) Both shows have great writers, charming characters, and assorted clandestine entities of ethereal and mythological origin. Before you know it, you're sucked in. (Again, I know, bad vampire pun - but hey, it's my column, bite me - okay that one was really bad, somebody caffeinate me.)

Before you know it you're imaginarily staking your friends during commercial breaks while betting them at the same time that you really could do a triple somersault as you back flip down the hall into the kitchen, grab a soda, and back flip back to your seat before the commercials run their course. Like any good cult member, um, I mean, devoted fan, you may find yourself humming the theme song at any given time, referring to the shows characters as if you were long-time compatriots, using "Grrrr, Arrgh" as your riposte of choice, or instantly launching into a barrage of "slayer-speak" with anyone whom you find out shares your panegyric proclivity for Buffy night.

While some of you may find this implausible, hard to believe even, well to tell the family secret, I've always been a little on the nerdy side. And like any self-respecting geek whose penchant for sci-fi/fantasy/make-believe never stopped at adolescence, but quite the contrary still resides within, I take much more solace out of Buffy and Angel that I could ever hope to extrapolate from Fox or CBS's latest, "Surviving Island of Big Brothers Scariest Animal Temptation Crashes Caught on Tape" silliness. Give me vampires, sartorially stylish lads and lasses, and a good slaying any day, although I'd probably be more inclined to watch those other shows if they had demons and people who burst into flames in sunlight on them. A guy's got to have his standards right?

So for any wandering souls out there who are too intimidated to brazenly declare your affinity for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, have no fear, for you are not alone. The Web, besides being an incessant breeding ground for the banal and trite, oh and porn, is also a great resource for all things Buffy and Angel. I think I'm even going to join the official fan club just so I can become an honorary slayer. (Although much to my dismay, Kindal doesn't want me to be a vampire slayer, or maybe it's just that she looks at me like I'm a silly git when I ask her if I can be one - either way, she still loves me, nerdy boy and all.)

So it is with that final ramble, that I shall now take me leave of you three. Next time I promise I'll have even more fun for you to gaze upon as by then I will have invented Post-It Notes, a new American cheese snack idea, and mastered telepathy. So as the sun sets slowly in the West, I bid you a fond farewell, because the sun is setting which means the vampires and bad guys will be running amok and we're wasting good slaying time here. (Next time I'll be back to normal, I promise.) Remember kids, "Grrrr, Aaarrgh."